


I'd Marry You Tomorrow

by RecreationalSunshine (SwashbuckLore)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boys Kissing, Comfort, Consensual, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't Judge Me, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Mpreg, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Rape Aftermath, Sad and Sweet, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwashbuckLore/pseuds/RecreationalSunshine
Summary: OneshotBy lunchtime, he resorted to climbing the fire escape, planning to to jimmy open the window. When he stood outside of it, though, he stopped dead because Steve sat on the bed, huddled against the wall, his head bowed so his hair fell in his face, and both his hands were cradled over his still-mostly-flat stomach. With Steve's shirt discarded , Bucky could see the swell. More than that, Bucky could hear the phrases drifting through the cracked window.“... care of you … mine … not your fault … loved … take care of you.”





	I'd Marry You Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepinupchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/gifts).



> This is a gift for a fellow fan and friends. I did what felt and sounded like it worked with what they wanted
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated!

Dammit. Bucky looked up from his hands, and bit his lip. Goddammit.

Steve sat in front of him, his thin shoulders shuddering, his clever oversized hands horribly tangled in his lap. He was letting off the painfully sharp scent of an omega in distress. “Buck -” he choked out. His voice was high and tight, and his eyes were wet, but his chin was set at that stubborn angle that Bucky simultaneously loved and hated. It usually meant that Steve was thinking or doing or thinking about doing something stupid and noble. That was part of who Steve was, though. Bucky loved him any and all ways.

He realized he’d been silent for too long. “Well. Stevie. This is going to change things.” he tried, forcing himself to stay calm so that his scent wouldn’t cloud the air. His focus was on the way Steve was breathing. His best guy was going to give himself an asthma attack if he didn’t start breathing normally instead of acting like he didn’t even deserve air right now.

“My name is Steve!” He burst out, jerking his face away from Bucky’s surprised glance. There was a whiff of horrible fear and pain, and then Steve tore himself off the couch and raced for the bedroom. By the time Bucky followed, the door was locked. He could have broken in with his alpha strength, easily, but he leaned his forehead against the doorframe again, and tried the knob as if he expected it to unlock. The scent of fear and pain was tangible outside the door.

“Steve?” He called. There was no answer. Bucky's heart broke a little bit. “We need to talk about this. I want to talk face to face.” Still no verbal answer, though he could hear Steve stifling his cries, could imagine him biting on his knuckles so hard they bled.

Bucky slept on the couch that night.

×××××××

The next morning, the door was still locked. Bucky left breakfast before it and announced loudly he was going to shower, then actually did. When he emerged from the water, he found the tray exactly where he’d left it. His expression darkened into a scowl.

“You gotta eat, Steve.”

No answer.

By lunchtime, he resorted to climbing the fire escape, planning to to jimmy open the window. When he stood outside of it, though, he stopped dead because Steve sat on the bed, huddled against the wall, his head bowed so his hair fell in his face, and both his hands were cradled over his still-mostly-flat stomach. With Steve's shirt discarded , Bucky could see the swell. More than that, Bucky could hear the phrases drifting through the cracked window.

“... care of you … mine … not your fault … loved … take care of you.”

Bucky lowered himself to sit on the fire escape to the side of the window so he couldn't see Steve and Steve couldn't see him. His throat was thick. He shut his eyes. Alphas didn't break down. Alphas didn't do this. Still, his worry for Steve took a backburner as his reaction emotions surged.

Last night, Steve had explained why he'd been so distant and why he'd been prickly and jumpy for a week.

He was pregnant.

The tests had come back positive. The beta he’d questioned had been firm about that. Steve had gotten the tests because he hadn't had his heat on schedule, and he hadn't taken his suppressants so … so. The tests. But Bucky wasn't crying because of the pregnancy. It was fine that Steve was pregnant, honestly. He'd make an excellent father.

It was because Steve had been jumped. “Jumped and - and pinned down,” Steve had whispered hoarsely. “My heat was just starting, and my suppressants hadn't kicked in yet … And I could /smell/ him. Harsh and chokingly strong. He was so strong.”

Bucky turned his face towards the sunny NYC summer sky and pretended it was raining, letting the drops roll down his cheeks. He had failed Steve. He was pretty sure he knew what night it had been. Steve had come home late with a brittle smile and zero interest in being touched. His eyes had even looked a little red. Bucky's chest hurt. He had seen. He should have known. He should have been there. He should have stopped it. If only he'd walked Steve home. They lived in Brooklyn for God's sake. This wasn't some small town.

A new set of phrases caught his ear: "… doesn't want … new home ... safe."

Bucky's heart nearly stopped at the thought of Steve finding a new home. NO. No, no, no. A growl rumbled up, and the phrases stopped.

A moment later, the window snapped shut. Bucky reached up. "Steve, please." He rapped. The curtains swished quickly closed. "Steve. Listen to me." he ordered.

There was no answer.

×××××××

By dinnertime, Bucky was plotting how best to get Steve to forgive him for breaking down the door.

Steve and his pup - oh god, his pup - needed proper nutrients.

He tried knocking again. “Steve, talk to me or I will break this door down.”

“The door belongs to you.”

“You pay rent, too.” Bucky argued.

“Not as much.” Steve’s voice was small and vulnerable. “And we both know it’s mostly cuz I’m too stubborn to let you pay all of it. You don’t need me.”

“You’re wrong.” Bucky growled. It wasn’t quite Alpha voice, but it was close. He didn’t mean to, he was trying to be calm, but he could hear Steve going further into self imposed isolation. “Open the fucking door this instant, Steven Grant Rogers.”

Steve hated his middle name. It was after an uncle that had sent his mother money and horrible letters. It was a last resort thing to use his middle name, and Bucky hoped it would work.

The doorknob clicked. Bucky twisted it and nearly fell over when the door opened.

Steve was huddling back up on his corner of the bed. He was also wearing Bucky’s sweater. It draped over Steve’s small frame, uncovering one slender shoulder, revealing the edge of a delicate collarbone. He was also shivering.

Bucky stepped inside slowly. “Stevie. I do need you. More than that, I want you.”

Steve flinched.

Bucky stopped. “What?”

“You want me?” he whispered eventually. “But -” he trailed off.

Bucky dropped onto the bed opposite Steve’s cot. They rarely used Bucky’s - most nights he curled around Steve to keep him warm. Bucky’s was either used as a collecting surface for clothes, art supplies, unfinished projects, cigarettes, newspapers and so on, or it was immaculately made with hospital corners. Steve was responsible for the former and Bucky for the latter.

“I want you, sweetheart.”

“But I’m a scrawny, useless, stubborn, belligerent, ingrateful omega … whore.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up. “What did you call yourself.” When it didn’t seem like Steve was going to respond, Bucky got to his feet. Steve got even smaller. “Steven. Who called you a whore?”

“Everyone does. They call me Barnes’ little slut when I go shopping for you. The factory supervisor doesn’t use my name; he calls me your omega .. whore. The neighbors don’t mean it, but they call me it. Everyone does, Buck.” Bucky’s jaw worked. He understood partially why he was finding Steve in fights with people he should have gotten along with.

“Then don’t listen to everyone, sweetheart. Listen to me for a moment. I want you for everything. I want every bit of you. I want you for the way your eyes light up like blue fire when you’re happy. I want you for the way you can draw the sunset as if the sky had dropped onto your page. I want you for the way your mind works, fast and clever. I want you for the way you swear when you cook and the way you snore when you sleep. I want you for your hands that heal and create and your shoulders that protect and won’t ever bow. You aren’t useless - you uplift everyone who looks beyond the surface. I don’t care that you’re an omega; I care that you’re Steve. I don’t care that you’re small. Your soul is sculpted out of living marble, a hero’s soul. I’d marry you tomorrow, love.”

Steve was crying, his scent disbelief mingling with poignant hope.

“May I hold you, Stevie?” Bucky whispered. Steve crawled over to him and into his lap, still crying, and then he stuck his nose straight against Bucky’s scent glands and scented unrepentantly. Arms in the process of wrapping around Steve to cuddle him, Bucky froze with surprise, and then Steve sighed and snuggled in closer. Bucky melted around him, cradling him, embracing him. They sat like that until Steve's breathing had calmed and his scent was sweet with peace.

Then:

Bucky stroked a thumb down Steve’s spine, intending comfort.

Steve's scent went tangy, a spicy something hitting the air. Bucky tilted his head, and Steve took the opportunity to nip him, gently, where a mating bite would go. Steve was sitting directly on Bucky's lap, he couldn't miss Bucky's reaction to that.

His bite turned into a soft kiss. Bucky tilted his head back, stifling a moan, then Steve ground his hips down and Bucky really did moan. "May I touch you?" he panted. Steve was smirking, but he nodded. Bucky's hands tightened, his fingers lining up with ribs, and then Steve nipped again, and he pushed until Bucky was flat on his back.

"You'd marry me tomorrow?" Steve asked, leaning over Bucky, his eyes predatory.

"I'd ... marry you tonight." Bucky gasped as Steve's thumbs padded over his nipples.

“Tomorrow would be fine.” Steve said innocently as he ground his hips down again, providing the pressure Bucky craved. Bucky’s breathing stuttered when Steve said. “I have plans for tonight.” Then he stopped moving his hips, stopped smirking. “If - if you’re okay with that.”

“You have my enthusiastic consent.” Bucky murmured. Steve smiled shyly as Bucky pulled him into a chaste kiss, then he frowned with pretend concern as he sat back up.

“You’re wearing too many clothes for my plans.”

“Ah, what’s the suggested dress for your plans?” Bucky mumbled. Steve’s hands drifted to the hem of Bucky’s shirt, and he tugged.

“I’ll show you,” he breathed, his fingers tracing over Bucky’s stomach. With Bucky’s willing participation, they got the shirt off, and then Steve, eyes lidded, scanned Bucky’s shoulders, the lines of his collarbone, the way his nipples had pebbled, the hard flatness of his belly.

They had been friends for years. They had lived together for years, Steve had seen him shirtless, he definitely had, but Bucky had never seen Steve look at him like this. His gaze was possessive, raking over Bucky, yet tender adoration and admiration lurked in those blue eyes.

“You want me for all sorts of reasons, but I just want you to be mine.” Steve said.

Bucky’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t speak as Steve slid off of him, his eyes still treasuring every bare inch of Bucky. It was the best thing Bucky had ever heard. He lifted his hips when Steve unbuttoned his trousers, allowing them to come off easily.

His dick was straining against his shorts, tenting them, already staining them with precome. Steve’s hands hovered over him like a conductor before they dropped, before Bucky was swirling away on the strains of an inaudible symphony. It opened with the sweet melody of Steve’s gaze. He looked at Bucky like he was the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen, the kind of sunset you just sit and breathe in instead of trying to capture with pencils.

The boxers came off inch by inch, gentle kisses placed on Bucky’s trembling legs to placate him. Next, Steve’s hand connected with bare, throbbing skin, warm, gentle, an adagio of movement. Over the tip with a thumb, again, again, smearing precome onto his hands, then his palms curling over Bucky’s dick and the slowest pressure. When he lifted his thrown back head, Bucky could see the concentration on Steve’s face, but he was smiling with such smug confidence that Bucky gasped out, “C’mon, Steve.”

“What?” Steve murmured, leaning until his breath puffed over Bucky’s most vulnerable skin. Bucky nearly screamed when he pulled back. “Do you need something?”

“You, you little shit.” Bucky gasped out.

“Oh?” Steve nuzzled the inside of Bucky’s thigh. Bucky’s hands dug into the bedsheets to keep himself from grabbing Steve by the back of the neck. “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me again how you want me.”

“I want you, sweetheart.” Bucky babbled.

“How.” Steve was firm. “Do you just want me because I can do this?” His hands twisted. Bucky cried out. He couldn’t count the wet dreams he’d had about Steve, the amount of times he’d jerked off during rut thinking about his best guy. This was so different, so much more real, so much more imperfect and tangible and wonderful.

“No. I want you because … you’re - you’re my best guy. And a punk.” Bucky said, and Steve pressed his lips to the inside of Bucky’s knee, a chaste kiss, a smile.

“I want you … like how the ocean wants the shore, how it always - comes back … no matter what …how they belong.” Bucky tried. Steve’s lips drifted up a few inches, and his kiss was harder, more earnest.

“I want you because you hum when you draw. I want you - you because you leave your stuff everywhere. I want you because you can say what you mean and stand for it. I want you because you’re the one person I’d go beyond the end of the line for.” With each sentence, Steve’s kisses got dirtier, his lips edging up and up and up, inch by inch.

“I wanna - I wanna have a home with you.” Bucky stuttered. Steve nipped at Bucky’s thigh, and then he lifted his head, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. Bucky’s head dropped to the mattress with a wanton groan. Steve’s hands had been gently, slowly, infinitesimally squeezing Bucky’s cock this whole time; now they left.

Hot breath brushed over his cock, followed by gentle lips closing over the tip. Bucky’s eyes shut, his hand clapping over his mouth to control the desperate noises he was making. Bucky’s back arched until Steve reached up and held onto his hip to keep it still. With his other hand, he closed around the base of Bucky’s cock where his knot was beginning to swell. Steve’s fingers were skillful, the warmth of his hands all the more arousing. His lips just rested on the tip, warm, still. “Please, Steve. Just - ah!” Bucky cried out when Steve sucked, hard, his mouth sinking down as far as it would go.

The combination of seeing Steve’s head between his legs and the unexpected and welcome enveloping wet heat nearly pushed Bucky over the edge. Steve pulled back a little, no longer sucking, and glanced up at Bucky through a curtain of bangs and eyelashes. He waited until Bucky had adjusted, calmed as much as he could, and then he sucked harder, his tongue flicking up the vein on the underside of Bucky’s cock.

Bucky cried out again, and Steve stopped again. Each time Bucky reached the edge, Steve would pull away, leaving him hanging until Bucky was desperately out of breath, pleading, sobbing. Then Steve dug his fingers into Bucky’s hip, sucked him down, and began bobbing his head up and down in earnest. When Bucky reached out to push Steve back, Steve growled a “No.” and the vibration around him was what did it. Bucky couldn’t even suck in a desperate breath as every muscle in him clamped up, his hips stuttering, his back arching out of control.

A crescendo burst through him, triumphant, glorious. Indescribable.

When he came back from the conclusion of the symphony, Steve had cleaned him up and draped a blanket over him. Steve was curled up on the bed beside him, still fully dressed, contentedly humming and stroking his thumb over Bucky’s face. Bucky twisted his head to kiss Steve’s fingers and wrapped an arm around Steve.

“Is that the only thing you’ve consumed all day?” he rasped.

Steve blinked at him in astonishment, then convulsed with laughter. Bucky frowned.

“Is it?”

“That’s - that’s what you - oh my god - that’s -”

“It’s not funny.” Bucky grumped. “You need to eat, you have a pup to think of .”

Steve immediately sobered. “Yeah. Food later though. I wanna cuddle.” Bucky couldn’t argue with that, though he was going to stuff Steve with so much food later. They cuddled until Bucky couldn’t handle the silence.

“Why did you lock yourself in our room?” Bucky queried.

“You said that this was going to change things, and I thought you meant - that you didn’t want ... that you wouldn’t let me stay …” Steve cuddled closer to Bucky. Bucky tightened his arm around Steve.

“I hope you’ve come to a different understanding.”

“You’re the one who came.” Steve joked.

“Haha, very funny. Wait. You didn’t, I didn’t -”

“You didn’t have to.” Steve interrupted hurriedly.

“What the hell do you mean? I want to! Of course I’m going to give you a good time!” Bucky said indignantly. “C’mere, I,”

“Buck.” Steve’s scent had completely changed. Gone was the amused contentedness. Sharp embarrassment and worry wafted off him. Bucky stopped trying to move.

“What?”

“I’m not ready to have sex again. Not. Not yet.” Steve mumbled. “Please don’t.”

“Stevie -” Bucky’s voice broke. “Okay, okay, sweetheart. Not yet. I’m not going to force you. Whatever you want, Stevie, I’m okay with. You’re safe.”

“Okay.” Steve mumbled, burying his face in Bucky’s shoulder. They lay together until their scents had stabilized. “Buck, I’m scared.” Steve finally said. “I’m. I’m gonna have a pup.”

“We’re gonna have a pup.” Bucky whispered into Steve’s hair. “It is scary. But I’ll help. And you know Ma and Becca are gonna be absolutely delighted to have a new pup to coddle.”

“What if they don’t want my pup? Because of,” Steve couldn’t finish. His fingers were nearly claws in Bucky’s side.

“You can tell them whatever you need to tell them. Tell ‘em it’s my pup.” Bucky suggested.

“What?”

“I meant what I said.” Bucky murmured. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you’ll have me. We can say it’s mine.”

Steve choked out a bittersweet laugh. “You don’t have to.”

“Did you not listen to a single thing I just said?” Bucky demanded.

“I did, just can’t believe ‘em.”

Bucky shook his head. “Then I’ll say them until you believe them. I’ll say every single word I need to to get you to believe me. I’ll start with these: You’re loved. You’re not alone. You’re important. You deserve it. It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You’re lovable. You’re worth so damn much.” Bucky tilted Steve’s head until he could kiss him. “Marry me?”

“Yes.” Steve gasped. They kissed, hot and hurried becoming slow and languid. Steve’s scent finally settled into something gloriously happy.

“And name the pup Bucky Jr.” Bucky tried when they pulled back to breath.

“So help me - !” Steve smacked Bucky, sitting up. Bucky sat up and grabbed his trousers, buttoning them. He looked down at Steve, still wearing that overlarge sweater, and his heart swelled.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” He promised. “From now until the day the stars are dust.”

“You gonna start by getting me something to eat?” Steve asked softly. Bucky nodded, bending to kiss him again, his hands twining through Steve’s hair.

“I don’t want to leave.” Bucky murmured.

Steve clambered to his feet. “You don’t have to. I can follow.”

Bucky pulled him alongside himself. “You can walk beside me.You’re my home and I’m yours. That’s how I’m marrying you tomorrow. Equal.”


End file.
